


Huntress

by helacious



Series: THE DIAMOND'S SCRIPTS [1]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:21:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26732050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helacious/pseuds/helacious
Summary: Personal pieces written in various perspectives of Vesper Lynd. This is solely based on my portrayal of Vesper Lynd occurring after the events of the 2006 film, Casino Royale. My portrayal of Vesper Lynd diverts from the film's events and is therefore original content. I do not, however, own any of the characters nor the film's events. I ask that my content not be used in any way.
Relationships: James Bond/Vesper Lynd
Series: THE DIAMOND'S SCRIPTS [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1945603
Kudos: 4





	Huntress

**Author's Note:**

> In “Huntress,” Vesper is introduced as MI6's newest double-o, specializing as a sniper preying upon the agency's rogue agents... much like James's introduction in Casino Royale.

You taught yourself to ward off emotion — _love_ most of all. You were self - taught in finding a way out of the most ridiculous situations, but you constantly found yourself in them anyway, and love was no stranger. Your eyes might be cold and your hands can kill, but you know that you could never go back. Montenegro calls, coaxing you home, but you have convinced yourself there is no home. Not anymore. You belong in a line of fire, either killing or getting killed, yet the latter has yet to find you. You wish it would.

You almost wish, too, that you could take away the memories, but then you could not hold the gun that’s trained on a rogue agent — its scope capturing the perfect image of clean skin seconds before the bullet strikes, before the blood splatters over pristine white tuxedo. You know this is what you want. This is what you have to want.

Yet the memories pour themselves into your head even while your soles meet the asphalt after dropping from a story above. They continue to fester until tears mark your cheeks, until your knuckles grow white, until everything about you is no longer professional: you are that little girl running away from everything you fear. The bloodstains on your hands will never wash away, and there is no one to wash them for you anymore. You tell yourself you want it that way.

This does not change even as the locks on your door click into place. Nor as you undress and find refuge in a cold shower. Nor as your naked body seeks warmth in an empty bed.

You fall asleep convinced you hate everyone. You have convinced yourself that you need no one, not even him, and maybe one day you will be right.


End file.
